


One bus ride.

by werewolve



Series: Ineffable Husbands Ficlets [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, i write too many very very short ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 17:42:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolve/pseuds/werewolve
Summary: part one of my many gomens shorts.





	One bus ride.

Crowley knew it would be a good bus journey the moment Aziraphale chose the seat beside him, rather than behind. He couldn’t have anticipated the angel’s fingers lacing through his own. 

It was startling, how quickly he’d fallen for his companion, and even more startling how quickly Aziraphale was able to make his entire stomach turn with immense happiness. 

Crowley wrapped the aura of his wing around Aziraphale’s shoulder, urging him closer, and was happy to find that Aziraphale obliged. 

Of course from Aziraphale’s perspective, he’d just made the biggest move of the last six thousand years, and to have it reciprocated was not something he’d be backing out from at any rate. So he rested his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley felt his heart thud just a little heavier, blasted angel making him a mess of loved up emotions. He pulled their hands up over Aziraphale’s head and lay his arm across the angel’s shoulders. 

At this point Aziraphale was still holding Crowley’s hand, but it was now on his shoulder, and he had no choice but to scoot even closer to the demon to accommodate for his comfort. This meant that the angel now sat with his legs resting over one of the demon’s. His feet off of the floor of the bus and his whole weight leant against the other man. 

Crowley kept his eyes forward, biting back a grin, and placed his free hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, affectionally running his thumb back and forth over the fabric of his trousers. 

They were essentially, to any onlooker, cuddled up together in the front seats of a bus. Enveloped in one another’s warmth. 

Angels and demons didn’t need sleep, but Aziraphale could picture himself drifting off to the gentle thud of Crowley’s heartbeat. 

It was a soft moment, a shared moment. One that would last longer than the bus ride itself and continue with them walking arm in arm back to Crowley’s apartment, only to curl up the very same way on his sofa, talking long into the night.


End file.
